The booth at the end
by BarricadeBoy221B
Summary: Everyone wants something; Mike Ross and Harvey Specter are no exceptions to that rule. Set before they meet each other for the first time, both have an encounter with an enigmatic man who sits in the booth at the end of a small diner. But will they both be able to keep their end of the deals they make? - Side note, of you haven't seen this show already you totally should :)
1. Mike

His first client of the day; a young man, in his late twenties at a guess, clad in a cheap shirt and threadbare hoodie. He has an air of nervousness about him, as though he suspects he's walking straight into a practical joke. The man glances up as the twenty-something approaches the booth, rubbing his hands together and then lifting one to his hair, scratching at the back of his neck.

"Can I help you?" he hesitates before opening his mouth to talk.

"I, ah…I hear they serve a great pastrami sandwich here" his expression lifting from solemn unfamiliarity to a welcoming smile, the man sets his coffee cup down.

"Mike, hello." Immediately a little more at ease, Mike takes a seat, waiting for a waitress to pass by before speaking again.

"I was told you can give people what they want? Like…anything they want."

"All I do is create opportunities for people." He watches Mike for a second, palms opening across the table. "What is it you want?" There are always two looks about people when they come to sit at this booth. The confident demeanour of those who know what they want and are willing to do anything to get it – or at least, think they are. And then there are those who know what they want but aren't sure what they're willing to do to achieve it. Everyone wants something –more money, more power, more love, but so many times people aren't willing to work for it. It's one of the many parts of the human condition; to expect things simply because we believe we deserve them. But the laws of nature dictate that for something to gained, something must also be lost.

But, just by looking at this twenty something with the youthful face and wide, anxious eyes, you couldn't tell which side he was stood on. At least, not until he wound up the nerve to ask for what he desired.

"I want to turn my life around." The man narrows his eyes, but prompts Mike to continue, which he does.

"I want my life to be better. I've screwed it up, and I want it to change."

"Change…how?"

"I don't know…I wanna go back to school – make money, get a good job."

"Then do it."

"I just said, I can't. I messed up my chance before. I want another shot."

"So you want to make a deal."

"Yeah. I mean, that's how it works, right? I make a deal, I do what you tell me, and you give me what I ask for?"

"More or less, yes. But you have to be entirely honest with me, and you have to come back here; tell me how it's going. That's the deal" Now he's a little more self assured. So, he tries again, leaning into the faux leather back of the booth seat.

"I want my life to change for the better, so that I can live comfortably, and so I can take care of my grandmother." A slow nod accompanies some notes jotted down in a worn leather notebook.

"Your grandmother – you're close with her?"

"Yes. She raised me after my parents…they passed away, and she took me in. And…I want to repay her, if I can."

"And the only way you think you can do that is by changing your life somehow." The man's question seems to instil a momentary doubt, but Mike nods all the same.

"If I can get a good job, then I can make more money, give some of it to her. Maybe…buy her a nicer place to live, I don't know. I mean, I have skills – if I could just get someone to look past what I did before and hire me, then that'd be great." A few more lines are written down, Mike's eyes trying in vain to scan the page from across the table.

"Tell me about your life."

"What do you want to know?"

"How did you 'screw it up'. What did you do that you can't come back from?" He sighs, but eventually opens up, explaining how he made money by helping others to cheat. He expects at least a little judgement, but the man only nods occasionally as Mike talks. Once he's finished, he rubs the backs of his knuckles as he sits forward.

"So…what do I have to do?" He finishes his sentence, looks up at Mike, and closes the notebook, only to open it again at a different page.

"In order to get what you want, you'll have to ruin someone else's career." And as predicted, the self assured air turns cloudy, a frown creeping into Mike's expression as he tries to determine if the man is serious.

"What? No – I can't do that."

"That's the deal"

"Why would I want to do that to someone else? Look, give me something else-"

"You knew the terms of making a deal with me; once you complete the task you've been given, what you want will come to pass. You can walk away at any time, but there'll be no guarantee that you'll receive what you asked for. Of course, things can happen on their own, and you can let them. But if you do this, you'll get what you want. All you have to do is ruin someone else's career. That's the deal." Mike looks annoyed, in a way. Like they always do; like they've waded in too deep and are just realizing it.

"Can't I get something else? Another task? I really don't want to do this"

"That's the task. You can take it, or walk away."

"Well, how do I do it?"

"The details are up to you." He's trying to read the man, making up his mind. He wants what he wants, and he wants what he wants for a good enough reason. But now he's playing tug of war with his own morals.

"What will happen to the person I choose?" The man shrugs, and takes another sip of his coffee.

"I don't know."

"Can it be anybody?"

"The details are up to you" He repeats patiently. Mike just rubs a hand over his face, eyes flicking to the world outside. The man just waits for a few minutes, before Mike comes out of his thoughtful consideration, and gives a hesitant nod.

"Alright, fine. I'll do it."

"So we have a deal?"

"…We have a deal."


	2. Harvey

It's later in the day when his next client arrives – around 6pm. He doesn't notice the man at first – too busy running his eyes over the interior of the diner and probably wishing he was elsewhere. He sticks out in his too-expensive suit and with his slicked back hair, but his steps are confident as he approaches the booth, commanding the man's attention.

"I assume you're the guy I've heard about."

"I'm sorry?"

"I hear they serve a great pastrami sandwich here."

"Hello, Harvey. Take a seat."

"Thank you." Even the way he slips into the seat gives a sense of smoothness – Harvey knows why he's here and knows what he wants. The man has only to find out what that is now. Finishing his cup of tea, he fixes Harvey with a curious look.

"So. Why are you here?"

"I was told you can give people whatever they want"

"No – I simply create opportunities."

"Tomato, tomato. Listen – this is probably some complex hoax, but my friend doesn't seem all that disappointed." The man can't help but smile a little – this isn't the first time someone's come to him and questioned his presence there instead of their own.

"It's entirely up to you whether or not you walk away from this disappointed or not."

"He said you'd say that"

"Why is it you're here, Harvey? What do you want?" The lawyer's smirk wavers a little as he taps two fingers on the table top.

"I've got a good life; good job, money, I'm the best at what I do." There's a pause as the man writes down a note or two. Harvey waits for the pen to stop before continuing.

"But it's all the same – just repetition, nothing feels like it's going anywhere. I want something to happen, something good – something that will stir things up a little, make things a little less boring."

"I should warn you, it's important to be specific at this point in the process."

"I'm not sure I want to be." The man narrows his eyes in curiousity, but prompts Harvey to explain himself, which he does once he's ordered a coffee from a passing waitress.

"I want a challenge, something I'm not expecting. I don't care what it is, as long as it's positive; I want something to change in my life or to change it-"

"Which do you want more?"

"You do your job right, and I should end up with both regardless." The arrogance of the rich can be an astounding thing, but the man can't help but smile with his client. As the second cup is set down on the table, he addresses Harvey again, this time looking down at his notebook, as if preparing to jot more things down.

"Tell me about why you want this."

"…Pretty sure I already did"

"You have the means to change your life. You make more than enough money to travel, to meet people…this is part of the deal, Harvey – you have to be completely honest with me. Now…why do you want this?" The lawyer glances away only briefly, amusing one hand with the handle of his coffee cup as he thinks of how to word his answer.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"I want you to be honest about why you want what you want."

"Everything you just mentioned – travelling, all that – it's great, but there aren't a lot of people I have to experience those sorts of things with-"

"So, do you don't so much want change as you do a partner."

"Excuse me?"

"You want someone. Not something, someone." His mouth opens to argue the point – typical lawyer – but he knows the man is speaking the truth. Clearing his throat his expression hardens a little.

"I'm not lonely."

"I never said you were"

"You implied it."

"I was simply reading between the lines, Harvey. Please, correct me if I'm wrong. But this is the part where you cut straight to it." He looks away, his hand hitting the table and causing ripples in his coffee as he lifts it to his lips and takes a lingering sip. The man waits for his answer, watching him like a psychiatrist watches a patient. Eventually, Harvey puts his mug down, and leans back into the booth cushion.

"Okay, I'll bite; I want someone new in my life – not necessarily romantically. But someone who will make a difference to me. A positive one - specific enough?"

"If that's what you really want, then that's fine." Harvey watches as he turns to another random page in his notebook, about to ask what he has to do as a task when the man takes the words out of his mouth.

"To get what you want, you have to help somebody commit fraud, without getting caught." The response is automatic, but it's a reaction the man is used to getting.

"You're kidding, right? No – give me something else."

"That's what you have to do."

"I hate fraud –I'm not doing it."

"Then leave. That's your task – you do it, or you don't. Of course, things may develop on their own; you can stop at any time. But only through doing this will what you want come to pass."

"Cut the crap – you've got a whole book of 'tasks' in there, just give me something else."

"That's what you have to do."

"I'm a lawyer; I'm not helping someone commit a crime."

"Then walk away." Harvey isn't sure if it's the man's patient, almost condescending tone, or what he's being asked to do that's irking him. Almost every fibre of him is telling him to get up and walk away and leave the prick with his coffee tab. But there's that small part of him that feels challenged – like he has to rise to it. And then there's the part of him that never loses. That always gets what he wants, because Harvey Specter doesn't lose. There's bound to be a loop hole – and he'd be lying if he said his job didn't require finding them in everyday situations. Perhaps he could find a way to complete the damned task without doing too much damage.

And it's that notion that has him meeting the man's eye again, and giving a defiant smirk.

"Alright. Deal."


	3. Mike: part 2

When Mike next comes in, he isn't as nervous as he was before; this time he has something to tell, something to say. Mike's not even in his seat when he speaks.

"I think I've found someone"

The man welcomes him into the booth with a gesture towards the seat opposite, and readies his pen as Mike starts to reveal the new developments of his bargain.

"Okay, you're not going to believe the week I've had"

"I'm sure I will" He's leaning forward now, hands out in a typical story-telling pose.

"There's this guy I know – a friend, who sells pot. We're talking, and he tells me how much cash he can get from one little briefcase, and I start thinking how much I need that kind of money." He goes on to explain the situation with his grandmother, the man listening with interest. As he did before, when he has to mention drugs Mike hushes his voice a little, though it doesn't appear as though anyone else is listening to their conversation.

"So, I ask him to set me up – a onetime deal. I mule some weed to these friends of his, and that's it. So I get to the hotel where I'm meant to take it, but when I get to the room where the drop's meant to happen…" he pauses slightly, for dramatic effect if nothing else. "There're cops, two of them, trying to get in. So I got out of there – I remembered there were these interviews going on a few floors below"

"Interviews?"

"Yeah, for a law firm, for Harvard graduates. Anyway, I basically fall in through these doors – I'm sweating like crazy, and for a second I think the secretary is gonna rat me out. But she just lets me in! And before I know it I'm being shown into this other room with this guy – the one who's conducting the interviews. I didn't even mean to be there, I just needed somewhere to lay low for a while, but he leads me in like I'm one of the grads sat in the hallway. So I figure…I'll go with it, right?" The humour of the story isn't entirely lost on the man, who looks away from Mike only to signal the waitress for a coffee refill. Mike politely declines the offer of his own drink before continuing.

"I'm barely in there five seconds, not even sat down when the locks on my briefcase fail – there's weed everywhere, I mean all over the carpet. But this guy, this lawyer, he doesn't call anyone – he tells me to clean it up, then sits me down, and I end up telling him everything. About the drop, everything."

"An odd reaction"

"That's what I thought, not that I was complaining"

"What was his name?"

"Harvey, Specter. But wait, it gets better. So I'm telling him my life story pretty much, and we get onto the subject of my experience with the law, how I haven't been to law school, all that. But then I tell him about my memory, and he tries testing me. I passed, but he still says no. I was…disappointed, I mean, from what he'd told me about the job…" the excited aspect in his tone dilutes a little.

"It sounded like something I would be able to do, my skills would be useful, I could really do something with my life finally. I mean, I wasn't expecting him to just hire me – I mean he couldn't, it wouldn't be legal for one…but then he closes the door, and he tells me 'yes'. Just like that."

"He hired you..?"

"Yeah. I start on Monday. I mean how crazy is that?"

"And you're happy to work for him?"

"Of course, I mean it's what I wanted – a good job, good money, and he seemed pretty cool. A little uptight maybe, but…"

"Cool enough for you to use to carry out your end of our deal?" Something comes over Mikes face, a kind of seriousness, as though he'd been hoping the man wouldn't bring this subject up. Averting his eyes for a few seconds, he exhales slowly, and turns his palms skyward.

"It'd be perfect, you know? I'd work for him for a while, get some money together, and then when I figure out my backup plan, I'd come clean to his superiors – tell them everything. He'd get his license stripped, for sure. He'd never be able to practice law, or at the very least, not at the level he is now."

"But…"

"…He listened to me – and despite everything, gave me this chance. I don't know if I can do it, not to him anyway."

"You're having doubts about him because you know him personally now. And you'll only become more attached the longer you work for him. Am I wrong?"

"No, but…"

"This will happen everytime, no matter who you pick."

"Yeah, because it's wrong."

"And yet you still agreed. And you've already got one foot in the door, right – you let him hire you."

"I know, I know…it's just, now that it's happening, it's harder than I imagined. He's a decent guy."

"Decent enough for you to give up on what you want, then?"

"No, not…well, yes, but, I don't want to give up"

"Why?"

"Because I need this chance. I mean, you said I could stop at anytime, right? Maybe I can find a way to keep my job and still carry out my end of the deal." He won't admit it out loud, but the way the man keeps jotting down notes creeps him out a little.

"Like I said, Mike. The details of your end are up to you." He nods like a child accepting a parents compromise – unhappily, but not really sure of what he can say to further his point.

"…Are all of the tasks in that book like mine?"

"They're all different."

"So you could just give me something else to do."

"Your task is your own. Either do it, or don't."


End file.
